The Nightmares
by kat0917
Summary: A look at some of the nightmares that keep the Avengers awake at night.
1. Natasha

Natasha walked through the door, pausing at the sudden darkness. She jumped when the door slammed shut behind her. It was deathly quiet, she could hear her own tense breathing, and her heart seemed to thud too loud in her chest. Despite the eeriness and the gut-feeling that something was very wrong, Natasha walked forward in the darkness.

"We knew you'd return to us, Natalia." A familiar voice called out to her with a ghostly echo. She spun in a circle with no use. She couldn't see anything. "You did well, Natalia." The voice seemed to come from all directions. Natasha walked forward again. "You are made of marble. You have yet to fail us, Natalia." The voice continued.

"My name's Natasha." She spoke up, ignoring the slight crack in her voice.

Madame B laughed, the sound sending chills up her spin. A bright light suddenly engulfed her as if a door opened in front of her. She blinked rapidly as she suddenly found herself outside. She looked around in confusion.

Her eyes noticed something her brain refused to accept. Tears already stung her eyes, her mouth was gaping open and a pit seemed to open in her stomach. "Clint," She called taking a step forward and falling to her knees next to his body. Two bullet wounds marked his chest. One unmistakably above his heart. Blood was on his lips, his powerful eyes unfocused and staring up at the sky. She reached forward to touch him and realized she had a gun in her hand. She stared at it in disbelief. What had she done? She jumped backwards, coming to her feet and dropping the weapon from her hands like it was burning hot.

"You did well, Natalia." Her voice breathed in Natasha's ear.

"No." Natasha called, taking another step back and shaking her head. She would never. She couldn't have of. It wasn't possible.

"Natasha!" A different voice called. Her head whipped in that direction. Steve? She heard her name called again. He sounded desperate. "Steve!" She called and bolted after him. She was in a destroyed and seemingly abandoned city. Natasha rounded a corner and saw Steve standing in the middle of the street, his hands around his neck as if he was choking. His face was red, and she noticed his shield was broken at his feet. "Steve?" She breathed, nearing him but was on edge.

Finally a dark figure stepped into her view. It was shaped like a man but completely black, like a shadow. Its arm was extended towards Steve and it was then Natasha realized he was using some kind of powers or magic to choke Steve. He lifted his arm and Steve started to move up until his feet weren't even on the ground. His eyes were on hers, begging for help. What could she do? This was a monster, this was magic and powers and everything she was scared of because it was everything she was never trained for. She would die trying though. She had to protect her friends. Natasha rushed forward but all the figure had to do was fling its other arm and she went flying back. Steve rose higher in the air.

"Steve!" She called, new tears starting to form. She felt so helpless. So completely weak and utterly useless. It was a feeling she wasn't used to. "What can I do?" She practically whispered to herself as she was forced to watch the life slowly drain from Steve. Natasha reached in her boot, pulling out a knife. She aimed and threw it at the figure. The blade stopped inches from its head. Natasha stared in surprise and fear.

"Look at you." The figure spoke to her. "Trying so desperately to make a difference. You are no one. Nothing. You don't belong on this team. You don't compare to them. You are useless. Nothing but a monster." And then he twisted his hand and the sound of Steve's neck snapping echoed in her ears as his body fell hard to the ground.

"Steve!" She cried but was suddenly inside again. She was breathing hard, tears still in her eyes and her heart racing in panic, grief and anger. She looked around and gasped as she recognized the place. No. No, no, no. She didn't want to be here. She couldn't be here. Not again. Natasha heard heels clicking on tile and closed her eyes.

"We knew you would return, Natalia." Madame B spoke from behind her. Natasha turned slowly to face the supervisor for the Red Room program and her old trainer. "You are not a superhero. You are nothing more than the assassin we made you."

"You're wrong." Natasha spoke, her voice sounded so little and helpless.

"Am I?"

Natasha couldn't answer. Was she wrong? Natasha knew she was a monster. She was a trained killer. Raised for nothing more than missions and only brought death to those around her. But she remembered Clint. He saved her. She remembered Fury and Coulson. She remembered the Avengers.

"You are." Natasha spoke confidently. Madame B seemed a bit surprised by her change in tone. "I'm a SHIELD agent. I'm an Avenger."

Madame B laughed. "You? You are our spy and assassin. They don't care about you. They never have and never will. You will kill them without a second thought when we give you the order. You forget, my dear, you have no place in the world. No one cares for you. You belong to no one. No one but us. Isn't that right, Black Widow?"

"No," Natasha breathed, taking a few steps back from her. "I don't belong to you. I got out. I'm free. I was saved."

"Were you?"

And then she was in an alley. European police sirens sounded in the distance but other than that, it was quiet. It was dark, the concrete ground and walls of the builds wet from earlier rain. She looked down one end when she sensed someone watching her. Relief poured over her when she saw Clint.

"You're here," She smiled, rushing towards him. He dropped his bow to his side as she threw her arms around him. She let out a breath and closed her eyes. Clint would save her. He always saw the good in her.

It took a while but finally one of his arms wrapped lightly around her back. She took in a breath and was about to pull away but he turned his head to say something in her ear. "Monster," He hissed and a sharp piercing pain exploded in her abdomen where he stabbed her.

* * *

Natasha bolted upright in her bed with a gasp, her hand going right to the spot where she was stabbed. It took her a moment but she was able to separate the dream from reality. She moved her hand to her chest and concentrated on calming her breathing.

"It was just a nightmare." She whispered to herself. "Just a nightmare."

She reached for the emergency satellite phone next to the bed and quickly typed in a number. She held it to her ear with both hands and closed her eyes.

"Nat?"

She let out a breath. "Clint."


	2. Steve

Steve internally groaned as he squeezed his eyes closed and balled his fists before using them to lift himself off the ground. He looked up but he was alone. Steve pushed himself up and turned in a circle.

"You just can't stay down, can you?"

Something hit him hard across his back and he went flying across the room, slamming into the wall. He kept his back to it and looked ahead at Johann Schmidt. His face disfigured and colored red, looking more like the skull beneath than a face.

"Why do you continue to get up?" Schmidt questioned, extending out his hands. "Why not stay down? Why not die?"

Steve charged him, it was a stupid and wild move but Steve couldn't stop himself. Schmidt braced himself, using Steve's momentum to help throw him back. Steve crashed into a metal table, sending it and Steve to the ground.

"Defeat me and then what? You are America's soldier. Nothing more. How can you possibly live if there is no war?"

Steve pushed himself to his feet again.

"You were created for one purpose. Your life has no meaning outside of war. You must realize this. In what way will you get a happy ending?"

Images of Peggy flashed across his mind. Schmidt smiled as if he saw the images himself. He raised a Hydra weapon and a flash of blue later, Steve was suddenly sitting at a table. He looked down at himself, wearing a suit he never thought he'd be able to afford.

"Are you alright?"

Steve's eyes widened and he glanced up at the person sitting across from him. "Peggy?"

She smiled a perfect smile. White teeth surrounded by red lipstick. Her hair done up and she was dressed in a stunning red dress. "Did the guys play too rough earlier?" She laughed. Steve could only stare at her. He was in awe and disbelief.

"The guys?"

"Dugan? Gabe? Were you in Howard's lab? Did something—" The worry was growing with every word and Steve reached across the table to grab her hand. She smiled slightly.

"I'm okay. Great, actually." Steve smiled.

A plate falling and smashing on the ground caused Steve to flinch, he instinctively grabbed the knife on the table and his eyes went wide as he assessed the danger.

"Hey," Peggy said in a soothing tone. "The war is over. You're safe. You're here with me."

Steve looked around. Every shadow was an enemy lurking, every noise was a gunshot or a bomb, every voice was a cry of pain or a scream of terror and every one of those caused Steve to flinch and tense, his mind going in a panic.

"Steve," Peggy tried again but he shot upright, the chair fell backwards, the noise making Steve flinch and he turned quickly on his heels. He bumped into a waiter and something splashed on Steve's shirt. He looked down at the stain but only saw a gunshot wound. When he looked up the waiter was Schmidt.

"What's wrong, Steven? If you are so sure the war is over for you, why are you so scared?"

Steve shoved away from him and ran for the door. He heard Peggy calling him but he couldn't stop. When he pushed through the door he froze. He was on a train. He remembered this train.

"Steve!" Bucky called desperately.

Steve ran right for him. It seemed to take forever to reach his friend. Every second he wasted, Bucky lost his grip a little more. Finally he was there. He climbed out as far as he could.

"Bucky!" He called over the rushing wind. "Give me your hand!"

Bucky reached but he was too far away. Steve stretched out as far as he could but the railing Bucky was holding broke off. He reached forward in a last attempt to grab his hand, almost sending himself over the edge. Bucky's scream echoed all around him as he fell. Steve's breath caught in his throat, his eyes stinging with tears.

"I should thank you." A German voice called from behind him. Steve turned around, stepping back inside the train to face Zola. "You weren't good enough to save him. And now he's mine."

Steve lashed out with a punch but Zola disappeared and his fist went through empty air.

"All you had to do was jump." Zola continued. Steve turned around and spotted him again. "If you really wanted to save him, you could have. You let him go. This is your fault."

"Of course it's your fault."

Steve turned around and saw Bucky. His left arm metal and long hair to his shoulders. Steve couldn't breathe, new tears were forming in his eyes. "Bucky," He called but Bucky didn't react.

"Why didn't you look for me, Steve? I waited for you. Every day I told myself you wouldn't leave me here. You wouldn't let them keep me. But you never did come for me."

Steve broke eye contact, his eyes going to the floor.

"Good thing." Alexander Pierce spoke up. Steve looked back up to see him standing behind Bucky, gun in his hand and aimed at Bucky's head. Bucky didn't react to it at all, his eyes blankly staring ahead. "I'm not sure where we would be if you had saved your friend. We needed him. But he is of no use now." Pierce pulled the trigger. Steve gasped, stepping back in surprise before he charged at Pierce.

One second he was on the train, the next, he was standing outside in the rain. He was standing in front of a building, the sign confirming that this was the Stork Club. He saw Peggy standing by the door. She was all dressed up in her nice clothes and make up but she stood there in the rain, ruining her look. She looked sad, her eyes rimmed red and arms wrapped tightly around herself.

"Peggy." Steve called and walked up to her. She looked right through him as if he wasn't there at all. "Peggy?" Steve tried again, touching her shoulder. His hand went right through her.

It was then that she started to change. Her skin started to pale and wrinkle, her dark hair turned gray and her eyes grew worn and distant. Finally she turned away from him and walked away. Steve tried to follow but couldn't move. He was shoved through the door she was standing in front of. It was different now. Modern music and people and clothes. He felt overwhelmed and uncomfortable at the sudden change. Everyone turned and stared at him. Then they started talking.

"You were not enough."

"You can't be here. You belong in the war."

"You're only a laboratory experiment."

Steve pushed through the crowd and tried to go towards the back door.

"There was nothing special about you. You were a pathetic kid, picked at random."

"Nothing but a failed lab rat."

"America's dancing monkey."

Finally Steve pushed out through the back door. He was hit with brightness and shaded his eyes from the sudden sun. When he was able to look, he noticed he was in a cemetery. His eyes staring at the name in front of him. It was Peggy's grave. He was too late.

He fell to his knees and closed his eyes. Someone grabbed his shoulder. He looked up at Nick Fury. Steve rose to his feet.

"What are you doing? You don't have time for this. We have your mission."

Steve pulled away. "No."

"No?"

"I don't want this to be my whole life. I want out."

"That's not your decision. You're Captain America. You can't just sit on the sidelines."

"I don't want to kill anyone. I don't want to fight in other people's wars."

"It's for the right reasons. That's what you wanted, right? Just to do the right thing?"

"I don't know what the right thing is anymore."

Fury stared at him for a minute. Finally he nodded and took a step back. "You're right. The world moved on without you once before. They don't need you." Fury waved a hand out to something behind Steve. Steve turned around and saw the Avengers.

They were standing all together, talking, laughing, and having a good time. Steve called out to them but no one looked over at him.

"If you're not an Avenger, if you don't have them, then what are you? What will you do? Who will you become?"

Steve looked away as he thought. He didn't know.

Fury stepped a little closer. "I know what you won't admit to yourself. These heroic deeds disguise your suicidal tendencies. Maybe you should just cut to the chase." He shoved a gun in his hand.

Steve stepped back, the gun dropping from his hand. He looked at Fury in surprise. Fury just shrugged. "Maybe it won't even kill you. Maybe that's it. All you have to look forward to. Outliving everyone you've ever known and care about, over and over again."

"No," Steve shook his head and turned around. He walked towards his friends but the floor suddenly fell out from under him and he was hit with a cold blast, freezing water rushing over and burning his skin.

* * *

Steve woke up with a gasp, goosebumps rose on his skin and he let out a slow breath as he pulled his sheets up tighter around him. He stared up at the dark ceiling, waiting for the nightmare to fade and reality to take hold. Except this was reality. His mind replayed his crash involuntarily and he rolled on his side, curling in a tight ball as he shivered.


	3. Bucky

Bucky stared blankly up at the ceiling. He numbly felt his mouth move as he forced words out of his raw throat. Raw from screaming and lack of water for who knows how long. He had been repeating his name, rank and serial number because that's all he could do. He was trained to do that under torture. It helped his mind concentrate on something other than the pain, helped him focus on saying just that instead of any information they would try to get from him. Bucky wasn't even sure if he was still saying his information or just mumbling nonsense.

A Russian voice echoed in his mind. _Longing_.

Bucky forced himself to blink, forced his eyes to focus. He tried to look around and see who said that but he couldn't find the strength to move. After another minute, he heard footsteps. Arnim Zola stood next to the table Bucky was strapped to.

"You are a survivor." He spoke. His accent thick and annoying. His eyes scanned over Bucky and he lifted a finger to push his glasses up his nose. "You might be the one, Sergeant Barnes. The first success."

Zola grabbed Bucky's arm, using his other hand to push the needle of a syringe in his skin. The pain wasn't even comparable to what Bucky's been through. He didn't even notice. Soon after, Bucky's eyes fluttered closed.

More Russian was echoing in his mind. _Rusted_.

Cold icy wind rushed by, hitting his skin and freezing his hands that gripped the railing for dear life. He heard Steve call his name. It caused Bucky to open his eyes but with just enough time to see the railing snap and he fell. Bucky screamed. The sound getting lost in the wind as he fell and fell. He seemed to fall right into darkness. It was quiet. No more train, no more Steve or himself screaming, no rushing wind; just silence.

 _Seventeen._

Bucky forced his eyes open. The first thing he noticed was the cold. He was laying on his back in the snow. The icy sting burning his skin through his clothes. His bare skin felt numb. He stared up with an empty gaze trying to remember what had happened. What should he do? He didn't think he could move. His hearing was muffled, eyesight blurred and he was having a hard time even inhaling precious oxygen. He was bleeding. He knew that much. Could see the red staining the white snow around him. He felt something lightly touch him and he stared up at the sky. He saw snowflakes. They were falling and melting against his body. Bucky wasn't sure how long he stared at the sky. His mind reeling. He vaguely remembered that he was supposed to be doing something. He had been on a mission. Right? On a train, maybe. Wait. Steve. Steve was there. He had to get back to Steve.

Bucky tried to move but failed. His body refused to respond. He wanted to scream. Wanted to call out for someone. He tried to open his mouth, wasn't sure if he actually did. But it didn't matter, no sounds came from him.

His head was pounding, his mind dizzy and black started to seep into his vision. He wondered if anyone would come looking for him. Surely his friends would. Surely. Bucky slipped into unconsciousness shortly after.

 _Daybreak._

Bucky screamed. He wasn't sure if it was just in his mind or not. He knew what was coming. He knew he couldn't stop it. He was being dragged through the snow. He wanted to fight back but his body couldn't move.

Zola was there. He couldn't tell if he was actually there or if he was just hallucinating him.

He was awake as they cut off the rest of his arm and ran numerous painful tests and he was awake when they locked him away and froze him. He couldn't stop it. He knew what was coming and he still couldn't stop it. He didn't want to become this. He didn't want to be used and forced into a weapon for his enemies. Bucky tried to scream but the cold stopped him before he could even open his mouth.

 _Furnace._

He was suddenly back in Austria. Strapped to a table with Zola looking down at him. No. Please, no. This is where it started. He didn't want to relive this again. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes as Zola then Schmidt loomed over him with wicked grins. "Please," Bucky whispered. "Don't. Please, stop."

There are things worse than death. Bucky knew this was one of those things. Numerous soldiers from his unit were taken back to be experimented on. None ever came back. Why did Bucky have to survive this? He should have died like the others. He wanted to die.

 _Nine._

Bucky was hanging off the side of the train. No. He was so determined this time. He refused to fall. He refused to relive his fate. Steve was right there. Right in front of him, reaching out and calling his name. Bucky reached for his hand. So close. The railing gave out. Bucky couldn't reach him. This should have been it for him. He should have died after this fall. He accepted it in this moment. Bucky wasn't scared to die. He was scared of what comes after though.

 _Benign._

He was screaming. Pain so excruciating, it was hard to believe his lights didn't go out. His thoughts scrambled, mind ripped to shreds and wiped clean. Shocks sparked and burned both his skin and through his brain. His skull felt like it split open, every rouge thought and loose memory quickly burned away. He let out a choked gasp as it suddenly stopped. He was breathing hard by the time the machine pulled away from his head. His skin sleek with sweat, head throbbing, jaw sore from clenching it and throat raw from his screams.

A fist slammed into his face, his body jerked to the side with the impact but he didn't retaliate. He didn't even react to it at all. The hit knocked something loose in his mind and he blinked a few times before the room disappeared around him.

 _Homecoming._

Bucky was suddenly standing inside a restaurant. He looked down and saw his old familiar clothes, lifted his hands to find them both being his own flesh and blood. He lifted his left hand to run through his short hair. He let out a relieved breath and turned quickly. People were everywhere, sitting, standing, talking, dancing, and just having a good time. It didn't take long for Bucky to realize he knew everyone here. Peggy was dancing with some dark-haired man. Colonel Phillips was sitting at a booth with others from his unit. The Howling Commandoes sat at the bar. Howard telling a story to a standing group who soon erupted in laughter. Connie rushing to the dance floor with a happy smile on her face. Dot walking in holding a stuffed bear Bucky won for her, who knows how long ago. Friends and family and old coworkers and bosses and girlfriends. But no one seemed to recognize him.

Bucky felt a dull pain start to appear in his head. He rubbed a hand down his face and started to walk forward, looking for Steve. He made it all the way to the bar and still couldn't spot Steve. The kid was a giant now, how hard could it be?

"Hey, Dum Dum." Bucky called and looked at him. The older man didn't respond to him at all. "Dugan." Bucky called. Still nothing. He walked over to Jim Morita. He was listening to Gabe and Falsworth talking. Bucky tried to grab Morita's shoulder but his hand went right though. Bucky jumped back in surprise. He looked down at his hands before back to them. "Guys?" He called, his voice starting to sound desperate. He turned quickly on his heels, a splitting pain was in his head and he held the heel of his hand against his temple, closing his eyes for a second.

When he opened them, he saw Howard walking over to Colonel Phillips. He rushed towards them. "Stark!" He called. The billionaire didn't respond. He took notice that everyone seemed older than he remembered. At least by a few years. Pain shot down his spine and he looked down to see he was suddenly in the outfit he was wearing when he fell. His breath caught and he turned around to look for Peggy. She must know where Steve was.

As he walked, blood dripped on the floor from his left side. By the time he reached her, his left arm was replaced by metal. The scars on his shoulder and chest were fresh and they burned with pain like he's never felt. Peggy was smiling fondly at the dark-haired man Bucky didn't know. Their dancing had slowed and she was listening as he talked quietly to her. "Agent Carter." Bucky said, his voice strained.

She didn't react. "Peggy, please!" He called, getting right in her face. She didn't even notice. He turned in a circle. His hair grew and touched his shoulders, his clothes turned black and leather. He felt the heavy weight of numerous weapons on his person.

"I'm still here!" Bucky called out to them. "I'm alive! I survived! Why aren't you looking for me? Please," Bucky cried and fell back to collapse on a chair. He watched everyone have a good time not even aware that he was still here.

The door opened and wind rustled a newspaper on the table Bucky was sitting by. He looked over at it and his eyes widened as he read the headline. It was the anniversary of Steve's sacrifice. Steve was dead? Steve's been dead? No. Bucky squeezed his eyes closed.

 _One._

"Why did you do this?"

Bucky turned around. He was standing in a white room that was completely empty except for him and a young woman. She had a gunshot would directly above her heart, blood was dripping down, staining her clothes.

"Why?" Someone else called. Bucky turned and saw a man with his throat slit, blood poured down the front of his shirt.

"You killed us." Numerous voices said at once. They room was quickly filling with people he killed. Bucky looked down, the lines of his metal arm filled with blood, his hand coated in it and dripping down to make a small puddle on the floor.

"Why?" A man called and shoved against him. Bucky stumbled back a bit.

"I'm sorry," Bucky breathed. His eyes blurring with tears. "I'm so sorry." He looked around at the filling room. "I didn't want to."

"It seemed like you did want to." A familiar voice called. Bucky turned around and saw Howard Stark. Bucky's face fell, he cast his eyes down and shook his head.

"I didn't—"

"You killed me, Sergeant Barnes. I helped Steve save you. And what did I get for it? A fist to my face. Multiple times. But you didn't stop there. Did you, James? You not only killed me. You killed my wife. We had a son. Did you know that?"

"I'm sorry." Bucky spoke up. It was all he could think to say.

"You deserve to be punished. I blame you. This is all your fault." Howard spoke, a woman came to stand next to him. Maria took his hand and looked at Bucky with disgust.

Bucky shook his head and backed away from them. He fell backwards, the floor suddenly ending. His back slammed into something and he bolted up in an upright position. The room was dark except for moonlight bleeding in a single window. He was breathing heavily and his eyes scanned the small space.

"Bucky?"

Bucky turned his head. Steve was leaning up from where he was reclined in a chair. Worry was evident in every feature. Bucky let out a breath and looked down. He was in a bed. A small mattress thrown on the ground actually but a bed nonetheless. When he looked back up, Steve was standing and walking over. He crouched down by him.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Bucky breathed. "Where are we?" He looked around the dark room. It was a single room besides a small door Bucky assumed led to a bathroom. Only one window. It was trashed too as if people came and went on a regular basis.

"Safe." Steve assured.

Bucky looked at him with a raised eyebrow. Steve was in normal clothes, they were dirty and ripped, a fresh cut was slowly healing on Steve's cheekbone and his hair was a mess. Bucky himself didn't look any better. They were on the run. It was all his fault. He was dragging Steve—the good guy, a hero, an Avenger—down with him, the no good assassin. Steve didn't deserve this.

Bucky shook his head, the faces of his victims flashing over his eyes. The faces of Steve's lost friends, of Steve's worried expression for him ran through his mind. "I'm not worth this Steve. You should go, leave me. I deserve what's coming."

"Buck—"

"I mean it, Steve. This is all my fault."

"No it's—"

 _Freight Car._

The word shot through Bucky's mind and when he blinked, he was alone. He was sitting on the ground, heavy duty cuffs and locks cuffing his hands and feet together. The room was empty. Dirty and stained concrete walls and a single steel door in front of him. After a moment it opened. Bucky went slack-jawed as Alexander Pierce walked in. No. Bucky shook his head. He was dead. Bucky heard about it. Pierce was supposed to be dead.

"Welcome back." He spoke with a smug smile on his face. Bucky felt panicked. He was back with Hydra. All of this was for nothing. Everything he gained would be taken from him again and there was nothing he could do about it. He knew deep down that this was too good to be true. Hydra or someone would find him. He would be used again. There was no stopping it. No use in fighting. It would only make things worse for him. "I knew you wouldn't leave for long, Soldier. This is your home, and you know it."

No. Bucky responded in his mind. It was so engrained into him not to talk back that his mouth wouldn't even open.

"You did so well for us. I knew you could do it." Bucky furrowed his eyebrows. What did he do? "You did so well, I'm going to let you have this memory. You deserve it."

 _Soldier?_

" _Ready to comply_." Bucky spoke without a second thought. He didn't even know who he was answering to. At the words, Bucky slowly blinked as if he were waking from a dream. His mind snapping back to his control. He was on a SHIELD helicarrier. It was destroyed. Broken glass and beams, fire everywhere. Bucky could hear explosions and gunfire. He looked down and his breath caught in his throat.

"Steve?" Bucky called. He was standing, Steve's body on the floor in front of him. Bucky's hands were covered in blood. Steve was covered in gunshot and knife wounds, his face bruised and bloodied. The life drained out of him. "Steve?" Bucky called again, rushing down next to him. He wasn't moving, wasn't breathing. "No, please," Bucky called. "Steve!" He shook him lightly but his friend didn't wake. Bucky started crying, his hands gripping uselessly at the front of Steve's uniform. His head bowed down, forehead almost touching Steve's chest. "But I just got you back," He could only repeat that as sobs overcame him.

As he leaned up from Steve, he was suddenly leaning up from where he slumped down in front of Pierce. Bucky looked around. He wasn't in shackles anymore but his hands were coated in blood and his shirt was missing. People had guns aimed at him. One wrong move and Bucky knew they would shoot to kill, no questions asked. Others filled the room. All scientists or soldiers or agents. All just staring at him. Alexander Pierce stood in front of him.

"No, please." Bucky spoke quietly. "I don't want to remember that. Please. Please, let me forget." Bucky begged.

Pierce laughed. "Why? It was your best work, Soldier. You should be proud. Now you are ours. Forever. No one is left to save you. You will always belong to Hydra. Don't you forget it."

Bucky looked down in defeat. Pierce was right. That was his last chance. Steve was his last hope. And now he was gone. Dead because of him. Bucky deserved this. This path was set in stone the second his unit was captured. Bucky's fate was always this.

Bucky looked up when a heavy door slammed in front of him. He felt the familiar icy cold rush over him and he prepared himself. Of course he would be forced back into his cryo sleep. He is always kept in a cryogenic stasis when he wasn't on missions—when he wasn't of use to them. It was the only constant in his life, going back in cryofreeze. Bucky almost welcomed the feeling.

The darkness didn't last long. He opened his eyes to force his muffled mind to concentrate. He stared blankly up at a ceiling. He forced himself to blink and focus. He knew this place. Zola peered down at him. Bucky squeezed his eyes closed. No. He was right back in Austria. Right back where this all started and there was nothing he could do to change it.

"You will be the new fist of Hydra."

Dread washed over him and Bucky screamed.

* * *

Bucky flinched awake. He was sitting up in the bed with the gun from under his pillow up and raised in a matter of seconds. The room was dark though. He was alone. Safe, even. Bucky tried to calm his breathing but he couldn't stop his eyes from nervously scanning the room. Finally he dropped the gun. He was free. Hydra didn't have him. Zola was dead. Pierce was dead. He wasn't in Austria, he wasn't in Russia. He was free. Bucky let out a breath and nodded to himself.

.


	4. Clint

The man had everyone in a line on their knees. An automatic rifle in his hands and finger on the trigger ready to kill these innocent hostages in cold blood. Clint had him in his sights, arrow nocked and aimed for a kill shot that wouldn't miss. Clint let the arrow fly, seeing it slice through the air in slow motion as it traveled across the third floor of the building and straight for the man. He watched the arrow reach the other side of the floor then…miss. It flew right by him, embedding itself in the wall behind the hostages. The man turned his head, eyes immediately finding Clint's and he let his lips curl in a wicked grin. He turned back and pulled the trigger.

"No!" Clint called, running for the man. He turned on his heels, finger still on the trigger. Clint cried out as numerous bullets tore through his body, sending him back and crashing through a window.

He missed. Clint never missed. But he did and innocent people paid for his mistake. People died because of him. This was all his fault. His skillset was the only thing that made him special. The only thing that allowed him to be useful. If he missed, then he was nothing. Nobody special. No one that belonged in SHIELD or on the Avengers. And he did. He missed.

Clint hit the ground below but all the impact seemed to do was send him somewhere else.

He opened his eyes to find him laying down on a hospitable bed. His eyes scanned the room and he groaned as he pushed himself in a sitting position. He was at SHIELD. He hated the infirmary. He was already planning his hasty escape when the door opened. Nick Fury walked in. Clint froze in his movements and put on an innocent smile as he slowly put his legs back on the bed.

"You have failed me for the last time." Fury spoke, crossing his arms and staring at Clint with a hard glare.

Clint lost the smile. "What?"

"You're done. Once you're cleared from medical, you're out of here." Fury turned and went for the door.

"No." Clint called. Usually he felt some pride knowing he was one of the only SHIELD agents that regularly spoke his mind to the Director of the agency. But this time he was just desperate.

"Excuse me?" Fury turned to eye him.

"I'm not leaving. You still need me."

"We never needed you. And besides, we have the Avengers now. You don't compare to them. You are useless."

"I'm one of SHIELD's best agents." Clint defended. He didn't argue against being useless compared to an Avenger because he felt it was true.

"Not anymore." Fury answered.

Clint stubbornly climbed out of the bed, wobbling on his feet but standing his ground. "I made this one mistake. It will never happen again." He spoke with absolution. "Sir." He even added for good measure.

"This is not the first mistake, but this was your last."

"What do you—?"

"You're insubordinate—"

"I wouldn't—"

"Constantly interrupting, talking back and snarking at the director of SHIELD, disobeying orders to your liking,"

Clint opened his mouth to argue but Fury raised an eyebrow as if waiting for him to interrupt again. Clint closed his mouth.

"Saving a KGB agent, a Red Room trained assassin, the Black Widow herself, when you had strict orders to kill on sight."

"Yeah but now she's one, if not the best agent SHIELD has ever had. And she has a place on the Avengers."

Fury sighed. "Why don't you make anything easy?"

Clint shrugged with a slight grin.

"You are done. I want you gone."

"Fury—" Clint took a step towards him but it was as if he stepped into a whole different room instead. He looked around and recognized the room. He was in the new Avengers facility. He let out a breath. He was done with SHIELD. SHIELD was his life. But at least he still had the Avengers.

Voices nearby sounded through the empty room and Clint watched as his teammates walked in the room. They were all talking and smiling.

"Hey guys," Clint started. He prepared himself to admit what had happened. Maybe he should tell Natasha first. She would know what to do.

They all froze by the door and looked at him. "Hey," Steve said warily.

"What are you doing here?" Natasha asked.

"I messed up," Clint admitted. "I was on a mission—"

"We know," Sam sighed.

"Director Fury called. He told us everything." Steve explained.

"Oh," Fell out of Clint's mouth before a thought could even form.

"So what are you doing here, Clint?" Wanda questioned.

Clint's eyes scanned the group. Everyone seemed a bit confused and awkward, some even looked annoyed that he was here. He took a step forward. "What's going on?"

Natasha sighed. "You have to go Clint. You can't be here."

"What do you mean?"

"Clint, buddy," Tony called, stepping up to him and grabbing his shoulder. "You're done. Kicked off the team. You don't belong with us."

Clint jerked back out of his touch. "What?" He looked over the group. They all either nodded or cast their gaze away.

"Nat?"

"I'm sorry Clint. You're just not good enough." Natasha spoke quietly but didn't break eye contact. Clint stared in disbelief. When she didn't say more, his eyes scanned the others.

"Wanda?"

She looked away. "You should go, Clint."

Clint clenched his jaw before nodding. "Okay. Fine. I get it."

At the words, he was suddenly outside. It was dark and cold, the street empty. Clint sighed as he started walking. "Clint," A ghostly vice echoed.

He paused in his step, looking around but couldn't see anyone. When he turned to keep walking, he froze. Phil Coulson stood there in the road. "Phil?" Clint questioned, taking a few steps closer to get a better look. It was him. Clint broke out in a relieved smile.

"You killed me."

Clint suddenly stopped walking. "No." He spoke slowly, his smile dropping. "Loki killed you."

"And who helped him escape? Who brought those men on the Helicarrier?"

Clint shook his head. "I didn't have a choice, Coulson. He got in my head. I couldn't shake him."

Phil snickered. "Of course you couldn't. You aren't strong enough. Just a helpless human."

That took Clint back. Phil has never said anything like that to him before. He usually said the opposite. "I tried." Clint spoke, his voice quiet. "Loki is practically a God. I was never trained for—"

"Stop trying to justify it. I'm dead. Loki may have killed me, but I blame you. All those SHIELD agents and innocent people that died by your hands. By Loki's hands. Everyone. They're on you. This is all your fault. You were always a killer, Clint. Always have been and always will."

"I'm still a good person. I do it because it's what needs to be done. I do it for the right reasons." Clint said. "I'm still a good person," He repeated.

"Are you?"

Clint didn't answer.

"Everyone you know leaves you. Your family, your coworkers, your friends. All gone. I wonder why that is? It's because you're no good."

"Stop." Clint says.

"Everyone around you gets hurt. Whether if it's because of you, or your actions or just you rubbing off your bad luck. You don't have the ability to save or protect them either."

"Stop." Clint calls again.

"And here you are again, running away from your problems. Running from the Avengers, from SHIELD. Just like you ran away from your brother and the carnival. Just like the orphanage. You should never have left there. But oh no, it was too tough and scary for you. Poor baby Clint. If you had been more of a man you could have stayed and avoided this whole mess of a life you created for yourself. Maybe a few more years of their abuse and neglect could have done you good."

Clint gritted his teeth. "Shut up," He called lowly.

"How nice it would have been if I never met you. If you had stayed right there in that orphanage where you were tossed after your parents were killed. Do you think they were happy? Happy they finally got away from you. Happy they—"

"Shut up!" Clint yelled, lashing out in a left hook. His fist passed only through air. Phil was gone. Clint scanned the road around him but he was alone. All was quiet.

Clint let out a breath and kept walking.

"Don't let him get to you, Barton."

Clint's eyes widened. He knew that voice. He turned and spotted Loki. Clint took a step back before he could stop himself. Hate and fear rushed though him. Loki had his scepter in his hand, the blue swirl of color calling out to him.

"I picked you for a reason. I saw your true self. You have heart. You don't give up. You're smart and a good fighter. You are a killer. The perfect asset I needed. I would have never gotten as far as I did without you. So I came to give my thanks."

Clint took another step back.

"You not need be afraid." Loki took a few steps closer. Clint held his ground. That only caused Loki to pull on his twisted grin.

"You did so well for me, Barton. We made a good team. Only a few flares of resistance but I knew that would be a given from you. You did everything I asked. No question."

"That's because I didn't have a choice." Clint practically growled.

Loki didn't answer and after a moment he took a few steps closer. "You remember all those men you brought in? All those enemies of SHIELD. Do you remember how easily they believed that you had turned against SHIELD? They knew who Hawkeye was. SHIELD's best agent. A relentless assassin and a stupendous marksman. And yet, there was barely any questioning when you came to them. You've played both sides before, Barton. Everyone knows it. That's why they don't trust you. Your loyalties lie where they suit your best interest."

"I would never willing go against SHIELD. That was all you."

"Maybe so. But if it hadn't been me, don't you see, it was so easy for you to bring down SHIELD. That was all your plan. Tearing the Avengers apart, making the helicarrier fall, the brilliant rescue plan."

Loki was right. Even if Clint did blame Loki, it was Clint who did it. Clint looked down. Loki took that as a win and stepped even closer.

"I know what you want." He said lightly. Clint looked back up. "To belong." Loki answered the unasked question. He lifted the scepter up slightly, the movement drawing Clint's gaze. He swallowed and resisted the urge to step back again. "The power of this, or the tesseract, it shows knowledge. Truth."

Clint shook his head. "It only ever showed me my next target, my next mission. And I'm done killing for you. I'm done helping you."

Loki narrowed his eyes. "You're done when I say you are."

Clint couldn't help the step back. It was instinctive. If that spear touched him again…. Clint didn't even want to think about it. It was over. He was done for. There was no Natasha to snap him out of it. He would be killed, either by the Asgardian himself or by some agency or law enforcement. By then he probably would have deserved it. Who knows what Loki wants from him this time? Who knows what evil plan he has forming in that mind of his.

Clint knew he was defenseless against him. It was a feeling he wasn't used to. It made his skin crawl, especially when Loki stepped closer, right in his space. Loki lifted the scepter, touching the tip of the spear to his chest.

* * *

Clint jerked awake, snapping upright in his bed, eyes quickly scanning the dark room as his heart pounded in his chest. He let out a deep breath when he realized he was alone. Loki wasn't here. Loki had been killed. News passed on by Thor awhile back. He was safe. He still had his friends, his teammates. He still belonged. He still mattered. Clint rubbed a hand down his face before standing. He shoved his boots on and picked up his bow as he slung a quiver full of arrows over his shoulder. He had been hit with an overwhelming urge to practice. He had to be perfect. He couldn't afford to miss.


	5. Tony

The taste of scotch was fresh on Tony's tongue. The music and sounds of people talking and laughing were in his ears. All was good. He was at a party. Nothing new or strange about that. Tony wasn't even sure exactly where he was. But it didn't matter. Happy should be around. Or Pepper. Or Rhodey. Maybe even the Avengers, depending on when and where he was. The point is, he wasn't alone. They would be here. His friends. His new family.

The crowds of people disappeared as the lights went out. Silence, darkness. Even a chill seemed to run through the air. Tony turned in a circle. "Jarvis? Hit the lights." After a moment's thought, and no answer, he spoke again. "Friday?"

Still no answer. "Pepper!" Tony called out. "Is it my birthday? Little late for the surprise part." He laughed to himself. There was no response. "Hey guys!" Tony called out to his team. He finally realized he was alone. All alone.

Tony pulled at his tie, it was suddenly too tight around his neck. He rushed forward, feeling around aimlessly for a light switch or door. Tony shut his eyes as a bright light clicked on. He brought a hand up to shield his eyes as he tried to get a better look. The room didn't light up though, it was as if a spotlight turned on but the light itself only showed the person beneath. The rest of the room was just black. Tony dropped the hand as he realized just who was under the light. Howard Stark.

"Dad?" He questioned, taking a step forward.

"Tony." Howard said in his disapproving voice. It was one Tony was used to hearing.

"What are you doing here?" Tony asked, taking another step closer. Another spot light turned on behind Tony. He turned around. "Yinsen?"

The older man looked at him with such sadness but didn't say anything. Tony couldn't stop staring.

"You promised you wouldn't waste your life." Yinsen finally broke the growing silence.

"I'm not. I…I made the Iron Man suits. I'm with Pepper. I'm an Avenger."

"Are you?" Howard spoke up. Tony turned to face him. "How long do you think you could last in this world? A world where Gods and monsters, aliens and other dimensions all exist."

"I know." Tony nodded. "I'm just a man in a can. But I'm going to help the world. I can figure something out. There's a way to save Earth from any other world. I can do it. I can."

"You can't." Howard shook his head.

"I know you don't think so." Tony spoke. "You never thought I was good enough." Tony raised his voice, defenses going up.

"That's because you aren't." A new voice said.

Tony looked over, felt his mouth pop open. "Mom?"

"Honey, you need to stop."

"Stop?"

"Stop fooling yourself. You're scared of being alone. Of not being good enough. Of people you love getting hurt. But when you try to prevent just that, you make it happen."

His mother's words hit Tony hard. He shook his head and took a step back. "That's not true. Mom—"

"Just look what happened to me." Yinsen spoke up. Tony turned to see growing blood stains.

"No. That was your choice. I tried to stop you. I wanted to save you." Tony walked towards him but with each step the light above him dimmed and Yinsen started to disappear. Tony froze in his steps.

"Everyone around you gets hurt, Tony. Everyone you love dies." His mother's voice called out to him. Tony didn't turn around. "And if they don't, they'll leave you anyways."

"You're good at being abandoned, aren't you?" Howard cut in. Tony clenched his jaw.

"Clint and Natasha are agents. You know for a fact Natasha was assigned to keep an eye on you before. Who's saying she and Barton aren't still doing that? They are spies and assassins. They don't care about you. They'll stab you in the back if given the order. Thor? He barely tolerates you. What does that say about you, Tony? Thor, son of Odin, the worthy one, thinking so lowly of you. And your new best friend, Bruce. He's using you. Can't you see it? How long would he stick around if it wasn't for science? If it wasn't for your money and labs?"

"And Steve." Howard cut in again. "Steve doesn't want you, son. He wants me back."

He looked down towards his feet and closed his eyes. Tony tried to convince himself it wasn't true. When he couldn't, he opened his eyes.

He was in the kitchen to the new Avengers facility. He wasn't alone. That in itself was a comfort. His teammates, his friends, his family, were here. "Man," He started, walking towards Steve who was in front of the sink. He was laughing at something Wanda said from across the counter. "I had the weirdest dream."

Steve turned to face him, the happiness falling from his face. "Tony." He said simply. Tony could hear the irritation in his voice. Tony glanced around when he noticed everyone stopped talking and moving about. They were all staring at him.

"Something happen?" Tony spoke carefully when no one said anything.

"We know what you did." Bruce said from where he was sitting at the table. A look of disgust obvious on his face. Tony was taken back by it.

"What? Did I have a crazy night last night? Drink too much?" Tony tried to smile but no one else seemed amused.

"Take a look." Wanda spoke, a TV turning on behind her. Tony watched as the news played before him. Cities, whole countries, gone. Destroyed, nothing left but piles of rubble and dead bodies. Weapons that were left behind, missiles that didn't go off, empty crates and boxes, all had something in common. One thing printed on the side. Stark Industries.

"Just like old times, right Stark?" Wanda spoke, tearing his gaze from the screen.

"What?" Tony breathed. "No. That's not possible. I don't do that anymore. We don't make weapons."

"Wouldn't be the first time you lied." Steve called, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Seriously? I wouldn't—"

"Thousands of people are dead." Thor called, stepping up to him. "You're the one to blame." His strong hand closed around his neck. One shove and Tony went flying across the room. He crashed in the wall and fell to the floor with a groan. When he picked up his head, he was in his room.

He sat up slowly. Spotted Pepper walking in the door.

"Pepper." He called, slowly getting to his feet. "Someone's selling weapons with my name—"

"Stop." She called, whipping around to face him.

The words disappeared from his mouth and he only stared in confusion. She had an empty bag in her hands. "What's going on?"

"Really?" She called and walked in the closet. She started shoving her things inside. "It's nice to see you again Mr. Stark. How're the Avengers? Must be awful if you tore yourself away from them for just a second."

"Pepper—" Tony started, nearing her.

"Don't." She said. "And I heard about you're quick money fix. Selling those weapons. Tony, people died. A lot of people. And it's on you." She turned, shoved the bag against his chest. "It's all your fault. How many innocent people are dead because of you? Have you lost count?"

"I don't do that anymore—"

She shook her head and walked passed him. "We're done, Tony. I quit. I'm done running your company. I'm done babysitting you. Let's see how well you handle life without me." She grabbed another bag off the bed and stormed out.

The door slamming caused the room to shake. The walls fell away and he was outside. Green grass, blue skies and warm air. All was good. Except for the bodies. Tony rushed forward, falling to his knees next to Bruce.

"Now's a good time to get angry," Tony called, shaking him slightly. Bruce tried to say something, blood bubbled from his lips but then he went limp, his head lolled to the side and his eyes closed. "Bruce!" He called. Tony felt tears start to sting his eyes. He rushed over to Steve. He was on the ground a few feet away, on his side but propped up on his elbow.

"Hey, come on, Steve, let's get you out of here." Tony leaned over and tried to lift him. Steve jerked away from his touch.

"How could you?" Steve called. "You were supposed to help us. You promised you'd save us."

"What happened?" Tony questioned.

Steve coughed wetly and fell back against the ground. "You happened." He got out before he stopped breathing.

He heard a weak laugh, looked over and spotted Clint struggling to get in a sitting position. Tony rushed over. The archer was covered in blood. It was hard to tell where it was coming from. "I knew."

"Knew what?" Tony said distractedly as he scanning over him, trying to find the wound.

"I knew you couldn't do anything. You couldn't save us. You're not good enough."

Tony looked up at Clint's eyes. "I can fix this. I can."

"You can't. This is all too much for you, right Stark? Still have nightmares? Still get panic attacks? You're just one man. One man with so much red in your ledger. How many paid the price for your arrogance? How many died for you to get paid?"

"You're one to talk." Tony snapped. "You're an assassin. I could ask you those same questions."

"Yeah, but I do my job to make the world a better place. You did it for a paycheck."

"Not anymore. I don't sell weapons. And even when I did, I did it to protect people."

"And look what that got you." Clint fell down to his side, his breathing heavy as he rolled to his back. His breaths suddenly stopped and he stared up at the sky.

Tony stood up and took a few steps back. He turned around. Tony could see Natasha and Thor nearby. They weren't moving, weren't even breathing. He numbly walked over to them and fell to his knees. Why wasn't he here? Why didn't he save them?

He rubbed his hands over his face then through his hair. Felt wind rushing by. Looked up to see him in the air. The Iron Man suit around him, hundreds of feet between him and the ground below. Tony was flying.

"Tony!" Rhodey's voice called out to him. He looked down and saw his friend in midair. He didn't have a suit on. He was falling. Tony rushed towards him. But he could never get any closer. He seemed to be moving so slow. Rhodey was looking at him, his hand extended. Tony tried to go faster, his suit couldn't go any faster. The ground grew closer. Rhodey called for him again.

"No!" Tony screamed just before Rhodey hit the ground.

* * *

Tony gasped awake. He licked his lips and closed his eyes as he tried to steady out his breathing. He turned his head when he felt the mattress move. Pepper was next to him, fast asleep. Tony let out a breath and moved closer to her. Everything was okay. The world was safe, as of now, his friends were alive and Pepper was still here. All was good.


	6. Thor

Thor felt an urgency he couldn't explain. He knew he needed to tell his father something important but it was like the words couldn't form in his mouth. He balled his fists in frustration. "Father, please, you must listen to me."

"Listen to you?" Odin called, turning on his heels to face Thor once again. "Why should I?"

"I am your son. I come with news—"

"That you are, but you left us. Why would you return now? Just to get help protecting your precious Earth."

"Father, it's more—"

"You want to be human so bad," Odin led off. "Maybe you should be."

"Listen, I saw something. Ask Heimdall. It was about Infinity Stones. I think someone—"

"Frigga would be so disappointed."

Those words had Thor pausing in his words. His mouth closed slowly. "Our son. Thor, God of Thunder. You were to be King. Rule the nine realms with power and respect. Provide security to all and send fear to our enemies. And yet, here you are. Mingling with lesser humans. Falling in love with one. Bringing her here. Which, escalated to your mother's death and even your brothers. And when the dust settles, where are you? Not helping here. Not taking the weight of my crown. You leave us. Leave me. You run back to Midgard."

"I told you my intentions, Father. I offered my life to safe the nine realms and in return you granted me a life of my own. I will not be King. But I will always protect Asgard. Along with the other realms. Is that not good enough?"

Odin seemed to think about it. He looked away and took a few steps. Thor waited patiently but an urgency was causing him to twitch. Finally Odin looked back to Thor. "No." He spoke. "It's not."

Odin pushed a hand forward, it slammed against Thor's chest and sent him backwards. Suddenly he was falling. Too far to hit the ground. He was going through a portal. He felt the power drain from him, felt the strength and worth leave him behind. He shed his armor, dropped his hammer and soon was face planting on the ground. He pushed himself up with a small groan.

"Father!" He called, quickly jumping to his feet. He seemed to be on Earth. "Heimdall!"

There was no answer. Thor looked down at himself. He was in civilian clothes, Mjolnir was at his feet. Thor took in a deep breath before leaning down to grab it. He pulled with all his might but it wouldn't budge. "No." He called. He tried again, this time yelling in frustration. A war was coming. One like no other. He couldn't afford to be like this. He had to save the realms. He had to be useful. Thor glanced around the empty field. He needed to warn his fellow Avengers.

At the thought, Thor was suddenly with them. They were in a forest, battle all around. Thor looked around with confusion, his adrenaline kicking in but there wasn't much he could do. He ran to the nearest tree, used it as cover as he tried to figure out what was happening. Gunfire was all around, he could hear explosions nearby. Humans, presumably Hydra, running alongside with Chitauri. The sight was something else and Thor took a moment to figure out how this alliance came to be.

"Thor!" A fellow Avenger called. It was Steve. The Captain of America. Thor turned quickly, didn't take long to find his friend. The red, white and blue of his uniform was stained with blood. Both his and his enemies. He was currently surrounded. A Chitauri had its hand around Steve's neck, holding him up in the air. Hydra had guns pointed at him. His shield broken at his feet.

Thor didn't think, just reacted. He ran for them. Didn't get very close before he was being tackled down by Chitauri. He was forced to stop moving as a Hydra agent held a gun to his head. "What can you do?" He teased. "You are no longer a God. You are no longer a threat to us. Or a help to them. You are nothing. Powerless."

The agents pointing weapons at Steve open fired and Thor could do nothing but scream as his friend was killed in front of him. He was useless. He was nothing, nobody, without his powers. He was thrown backwards, his back slamming into a tree. He fell to the ground, bringing a hand up to hold his head.

He looked up and around. Steve was nowhere in sight. He didn't seem to have been thrown that far but it looked like he was. He spotted a flash of red and scrambled to his feet. Pain shot from his back and a cut on his forearm was bleeding. "Romanoff!" He yelled, running in her direction. She quickly came to a stop and turned around. Relief ran across her face.

"Thor!" She rushed towards him. "Just the one I needed. I need you to fly up to that lookout post. We need to get up there. It's the only way. Tony's suit is down, I can't find Steve or Bruce and Clint…." She led off with a sad look.

Thor looked down. "You are our only hope." She placed a gentle hand on his arm. He looked up at her. She pointed towards the post. He looked up at it.

"I—I can't."

"What do you mean?" She questioned.

"I can't fly."

"Why not? You're Thor, aren't you?"

"Odin took my powers so I could stay on Earth," He explained.

Natasha looked at him with disappointment before a wave of sorrow washed over her. "Then that's it. We lost," She mumbled. Natasha slowly turned, raising her hands as hundreds of agents and aliens surrounded them with weapons raised. They opened fire on her.

"No!" He called, rushing forward to catch her falling body. As he stepped forward, he stepped into a room. Thor looked around as the forest disappeared and he found himself on Asgard. He was in a dining hall, long tables filled with food and lined with chairs.

"Thor." A voice called.

Thor turned around, his eyes going wide. "Mother?"

Frigga smiled her kind smile as she neared him. "You seem tense. Have you been sleeping, my son?"

Thor stared in wonder, he knew something was off about her being here but he couldn't place it. "You need to listen," He placed his hands on her shoulders. "I saw something. The realms are in danger. I need to know—"

"Now, now, brother."

Thor looked over and watch Loki walk in with a grin on his face. "Loki?" He let go of Frigga and neared his brother.

"You always did want to jump right to war. Let us eat first." Loki walked by and towards the table.

"No." Thor called, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him back. "Listen to me. Everyone is in danger. We need to find Odin. I need my powers back."

"Why? Do your new friends, your new family, not show the same affection for you without your abilities?" Loki said. Thor pulled his hand back.

"Loki, please,"

"Please what?" Loki started circling Thor. "You think I care whether those humans live or die? Whether you live or die? Whether Odin?"

"You don't mean that, brother." Thor turned to face him again.

"Oh, but I do." The spear suddenly in his hands, Loki lashed out, sending it right through Thor. He gasped, hand going out to grip anything as his legs threatened to give. His hand gripped Loki's shoulder. He looked in his brothers eyes but saw only joy. Tears swelled in Thor's eyes as Loki shoved against him, sending him back to fall on the hard ground.

The second he hit the ground, Thor was suddenly standing on the Bifrost Bridge. He looked ahead at Asgard. It was destroyed. Buildings collapsed, fire everywhere, smoke filling the sky. Thor rushed forward, only stopped by a hand gripping his shoulder. Heimdall.

"What happened?" Thor called.

"Why didn't you warn us, Thor?" Heimdall asked. Thor looked at him. "You could have done something if you were here. Why weren't you here? Why didn't you do anything?"

"I tried. I wanted to warn—"

"Thor!" A voice called out to him.

Thor turned back and started at a run to get off the bridge. It didn't take long to find the source of the scream. Lady Sif was on the ground, wound bleeding heavily on her stomach, blood running down from her lips. He crouched down by her, holding her so her head wasn't on the ground.

"Sif. You're going to be okay. I'm going to get you out of here." He moved to pick her up.

"No." She voiced, pulling his attention back to her face.

"Sif—"

"This is your fault, Thor. Look what happened to us. This is your real home. You let them destroy it."

"I came back as soon as I could. I tried to warn—"

"It wasn't…wasn't enough," Sif breathed, her eyes sliding closed. Thor stared in sorrow as the life drained from her. There was nothing he could do. He held her a bit longer before carefully setting her down. He looked around, spotted Fandral, Hogun, and Volstagg. The Warrior's Three. His friends. All dead.

Thor looked up as cries of pain and for help sounded around him. The ground shook as a building fell over. Thor ran to the palace. It was just piles of rubble and ashes. "Father!" He called. "Odin!" There was no response. Thor fell to his knees. He looked around at the destruction. He saw only death and fire. It was all his fault. He wanted vengeance. But there was nothing he could do.

Emerging from the smoke, a figure walked towards him. Thor looked up and watched in question. When he saw who it was, he jumped to his feet. "Jane!" He called and rushed to her. He slowed when he saw the dagger in her hand. Her eyes were dark, he could feel the power of the Aether running through her body. She spoke but it wasn't her voice that came out.

"I came to thank you." It said.

"Thank me?"

"You and your Avengers have made it quite easy for me to gather the Infinity Stones. Your disappearance from the realms was a nice bonus too. I'm glad you decided to hide on Midgard. It saved me a lot of trouble. Just look at what I was able to accomplish." Jane's arms extended to gesture to the remains of Asgard. "I did this to your home, Thor. I took the fight to your doorstep. And where were you?" Jane grinned a twisted smile. "But never mind that. This is a fair warning. I'm coming for you. For all of you. The universe will be mine. I think it's time you know just how serious I am. I'll see you soon, Thor. Real soon." Then Jane raised the dagger. Thor jumped back but she wasn't aiming for him. She brought the blade down into her own stomach.

The Aether rushed out of her body and once it was gone, Jane collapsed to the ground. She cried out in pain, tears in her eyes, blood pouring down her shirt. "Jane!" Thor called, rushing to her and holding her close.

"I'm—I'm sorry," Jane struggled to say. "I c-couldn't stop—"

* * *

Thor was jarred awake by the sounds of knocking. He blinked a few times to clear the nightmare from reality. He took a moment to calm himself before he got off his bed and walked to the door. Sif was on the other side. Just the sight of her alive and well helped calm his spooked nerves.

"The Allfather is ready to see you now."


	7. Sam

Sam Wilson laughed at his own story, not even getting to the best part. His friends waited anxiously for him to continue. "Okay, okay…" Sam took in a breath. "So," He met eyes with Steve and broke out laughing again.

His teammates, his friends, his new and strange family surrounded him. Happy smiles and laughs, not because of his probably stupid story he can't even finish, but because he was happy. Sam was thankful he found them. More accurately, Steve found him. The room seemed to get cold, a cool breeze sent goosebumps up his back.

"This is how you honor me?" A voice whispered. Sam jumped, whipping around but seeing no one. When he turned back around, the room was empty.

"Guys?" He called out.

"I was your best friend. Your wingman."

Sam's breath caught as he noticed Riley standing a few feet away. He almost thought it was Steve. Both men shared the look of blond hair, pale skin and blue eyes.

"The only one crazy enough to fly with you as a test pilot with wings."

Sam was still to awestruck to say anything.

"And I'm replaced so easily." Riley shook his head. He looked so sad and let down. Sam took a step forward.

"I didn't replace you. I—"

Sam let out a gasp as he was suddenly falling. Warm air rushing by his ears, dark night sky engulfing him. He realized he wasn't falling. He was flying. His wings securely strapped to him. He felt so free and happy.

He heard a happy yell and looked to his left. Riley was there, happy smile on his face. The scene brought a smile to Sam's lips. This was nice. It would be an easy mission. In and out. Just a standard PJ rescue op. They've done it a thousand times now. It was nothing special. Nothing new. It was a night mission, which Wilson particularly liked. Nothing to distract him. Just him and Riley in the air, covered by darkness.

"Check this out!" Sam called over the rushing wind through the comms. He dove down, tucking his knees up to make himself into a ball, spinning in the air then shooting upright, soaring past Riley. He laughed, held out a thumbs up. Sam looked down at him. Then everything went into slow motion.

An RPG shot at them, hitting Riley with an explosion of fire and smoke. Sam could only stare in shock.

Then it wasn't an explosion there. It was Riley. He looked completely fine except he was falling from the sky. "Sam!" He called.

Sam reacted without even thinking, swooping down and rushing to catch Riley. He was hit with a wave of reality. He knew he didn't save him. He knew all he could do was watch and all attempts at trying were pointless. But he had to try.

After the thought, he blinked, and suddenly it wasn't Riley falling, it was Steve.

"No." Sam spoke out loud. He couldn't fail this time. He couldn't let Steve die on his watch too. He had one job. He couldn't afford to mess up this time.

Sam was diving face-first through the sky, his wings pulled back and hand extended out to catch Steve. Steve had his hand out to reach for Sam. They seemed to fall forever and yet it still wasn't enough time. Sam never got any closer even as the ground below did. In the end, Sam wasn't able to save Steve either.

* * *

The sound of Steve crashing into the Earth had Sam gasping awake. He sat up quietly and rubbed his eyes. He slouched and stared at the wall in front of him through the dark. He needed to clear his thoughts before falling back asleep. He didn't want to risk repeating the dream.


End file.
